


Duplicitous Carnival

by comeonlight



Category: Final Fantasy Type-0
Genre: Abusive Relationships, Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Police, Ambiguous Relationships, Bad Fic, Costume Parties & Masquerades, Features many other characters oops, Gen, Help, Kind Of Yikes, Kinda, Misuse of Phantoma, Read The Ice Reaper cough cough, This Is A Hellfic, What Are Laws, What Are Morals, a giant mess, hurt/false comfort, very alternate
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-04
Updated: 2018-12-05
Packaged: 2019-09-06 20:51:15
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 12
Words: 9,186
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16840186
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/comeonlight/pseuds/comeonlight
Summary: Agents of the Rubrum Investigative Agency are after a mysterious phantoma peddler called "Mother." Unfortunately, each move they make leaves them with more questions than answers. Will they get to the bottom of the growing web of mysteries? Do they want to?





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Forewarning, this mess gets worse as it goes on. Half the world building is in my head and can't find its way into the story. Hopefully this will still be enjoyable(? Idk, I suffered) to some degree. Hopefully I'll be able to write better stuff after getting back into the groove of things. Without further ado...another improperly titled fic.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Mother hosts an auction.

She gazes out at her audience, a smile on her lips as she blows out a stream of smoke. Her stance is relaxed, carefree despite her surroundings. The crowd looking up at her stares intently, some gawking, some trying to decipher just what force has emboldened her to host this sort of event regularly without so much as wearing a mask - and furthermore, how she manages to escape the clutches of the authorities. “Mother,” they call her. How the nickname came about, no one is quite sure. But that matters not. What matters is what “Mother” has brought to the stage. She snaps her fingers, and the curtains behind her part for a masked woman. Of course, the mask doesn't hide her identity at all; every person in the room knows just who she is, but it seems that she exists only in Mother's shadow. The public eye does not acknowledge her or her dealings. Perhaps it's some sort of magic, how someone so beautiful can simply be ignored. The woman steps forward, holding a translucent black box. Inside, a single body of light tries to escape, to no avail of course. It glows a bright pink and then dulls, again and again, pulsing like a living creature.

“One cerise phantoma,” Mother says. “Let's start the bidding at…” She takes a long drag from her cigarette, inhaling the audience's anticipation along with the smoke. The silence intensifies as she purses her lips, golden eyes glancing over the event's disguised attendees before falling on a masked man covered in a dark violet cloak. “Three thousand,” she says, and the smoke flowing from her mouth forms into a cloud around her. It covers her completely, and then disperses in a gust, leaving an empty spot where she once stood. For a moment, the audience gazes in silence, captivated by the disappearing act. The man in the cloak clears his throat. “Three thousand.”

Suddenly, the audience is full of frantic shouts and hands in the air clutching signs with numbers printed on them.

“Thirty-five hundred gil!”  
“Four thousand!”  
“Six thousand!”  
“Seventy-five hundred!”

“Fifteen thousand gil.” Murmurs instantly replace the shouting.

“Fifteen thousand...is he crazy?”  
“She's only sold this kind once before, though. Who knows when our next chance could be.”

The man in the cloak observes the behavior of the people surrounding him, making as many mental notes as his brain will allow. The vast majority of these people must be researchers of some sort. There's no other explanation for the desperation to have this  _ thing  _ that no one has quite figured out yet. Scientific curiosity, he knows better than most, can be a dangerous thing. “Fifteen thousand five hundred,” someone says from near the front, their voice wavering. The bid is immediately met with a firm, “Sixteen thousand.” The room falls nearly silent. The woman on stage takes a look around the room. “Going once. Twice. Sold to Number Ninety-nine.” The winning bidder lowers his sign with the number 99 printed in crimson. He appears quite young, but what does that matter if he has the funds?

Mother emerges from behind the curtains. “Not to worry. There are plenty more where that came from. A mother is a provider, after all.” The man in the cloak looks at the eyes of the other attendees. They're completely fixated on Mother, as if under some sort of hypnosis. Maybe they are. He bends his knees slightly to decrease his height and whispers so that only the woman right next to him can hear his voice. “I think she might be a hypnotist.” The woman makes an affirmative noise. “Got it. I have a feeling we should check out Ninety-nine, too.” The man hums in agreement and stands to his full height. “Now,” Mother says. “Let's proceed.”


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Masquerades and black market auctions seem to go hand in hand. Among all the guests, Emina finds herself speaking with the most suspicious person of them all.

Emina can hardly fathom the audacity of it all. An illegal phantoma auction in the basement of the city hall, and then some of the participants even go upstairs and join the masquerade the city officials are throwing. Of course it would be a masquerade. Akademeia loves nothing more than hiding. Secrets upon lies upon secrets about lies. If it were up to her, Emina would up and leave; go to HQ and wash the smell of smoke off her cloak. But it isn't up to her. Part of her mission is investigating this masquerade with her smelly cloak stuffed inside her tiny purse, and Kazusa’s cloak is in all likelihood even more smelly because he's probably sweating up a storm tailing Ninety-nine or even fighting him. Or maybe it's been tossed aside, run over by twelve different cars and pissed on by a stray cat. What does she care? It's a damn cloak. Emina takes a glass of champagne from a tray carried by a butler. She's usually more composed, but two hours of sleep and no caffeine catches up with a person at one in the morning. Next time HQ calls at a ridiculously early time for a task equally ridiculous - i.e. an interrogation when she isn't even a member of the interrogation crew - she is going to promptly ignore it.

“You've got a really pretty face. What's with the scowl?” A man stands in front of her, smiling as if he doesn't look like a fool in his extravagant red suit and feathery mask. There's practically a phoenix on his face. “Just thinking about something.” Emina downs the whole glass in one go. “So, how's your night been?” She puts on her fake but apparently charming smile, and the man's eyes light up behind his mask. “Well, up until now I'd been speaking with officials and whatnot. You see, the Chancellor is a distant relative of mine - or at least that's what my dad tells me. He actually runs the department of...Miss, is something wrong?”

Emina pauses before speaking. She'd totally tuned him out, hadn't she? “Uh...oh! So sorry, I think that drink hit me.” She gives an apologetic smile, and then immediately looks past the man, searching for...what  _ is  _ she searching for? Something has her feeling uneasy. What is it? A bomb in the building? An assassin after her for whatever reason? Was her cover blown during the auction? Her breath halts. From beyond tens of pairs of rich, merry dancers, two eyes stare intently at her. They aren't the eyes of someone wanting to dance or trying to picture what's under her dress. They're knowing eyes, eyes with answers. The eyes of that woman on stage at the auction. “My apologies,” Emina says, handing her glass to the man resembling the Vermilion Bird. “I just remembered I have a very important talk to get to. Nice chatting with you!” She gives a curtsy before rushing off, and the man is somehow infatuated. She'll never understand how some men fall head over heels in seconds, but that really, really isn't important right now. She moves to the music, practically dancing herself as she avoids bumping into tipsy masquerade attendees. Closer, closer…

“No need to rush,” the woman eyeing Emina says as she comes within earshot. “You, me, dance,” Emina demands, and the woman quirks a brow. She gives a soft shrug and complies. “If you insist.” Emina leads despite being slightly shorter. “What was with that stare?” she asks. That probably shouldn't be her first question, considering that this woman is a criminal. “I stared because you are pretty,” the woman replies with a nearly offensive amount of nonchalance. “It was rude, so I apologize. I did want to speak with you, however.” Emina furrows her brow. “You're the one that wants to talk? You're a…” She's a...black market auctioneer? Actually not half bad at dancing? Somehow less annoying than Mother, despite them both essentially being strangers? “Yes, I serve Mother. And you are pursuing her. Correct? As part of an agency or an organization?” Emina braces for an attack, but continues dancing. “How could you tell?”

“The young man beside you,” the woman recalls. “I could see into his eyes for just a moment, but that was all I required in order to know. When he whispered to you, I became suspicious of you as well. Fear not. I've no intention of harming you.” “Funny,” Emina says with more than a hint of snark in her voice. “You say that as if...you…” She misses a step. Her dancing partner starts to lead. “Hey. You…” A wave of dizziness hits. The world spins and the music becomes but a vibration beneath her feet. Her field of vision becomes flooded with light from the chandeliers, and then there is darkness.

* * *

Soft. So soft. Emina opens her eyes enough to see dim light, and then everything is black again. Her bed isn't this soft. No bed should be this soft and cozy. But this one is. So nice...Wait. “Wheeath,” Emina slurs, her voice dry. She can smell something. A burning candle? The scent is something fruity. “Can you hear me?” a familiar voice asks. How the hell is she supposed to answer in this state? “Please groan twice if you understand.” Emina would roll her eyes if she could. Can she? Everything feels so  _ weird.  _ She forces out two noises that resemble what she imagines a dying chocobo might sound like. “I take that as a yes.” The mattress shifts with the addition of pressure, and then evens out. “Emina Hanaharu. Rubrum Investigative Agency.” Well, that answers the question of whether this lady has any qualms about going through an unconscious person's wallet and looking at IDs- “Member of the Truthseekers Society.” ...Shit. She saw it. The tattoo. “It seems we've more to talk about than I first thought. But, we should wait until you are well. It seems the drink you had was drugged. Emina blows air out of her nostrils. She thought she'd been careful. Was it the butler, or Bird Boy? Or this known criminal whose name continues to elude her… “Unh…” Emina falls back asleep on the soft bed that she wishes was her own.


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Kazusa makes a discovery. Elsewhere, Cid delivers a bit of exposition.

Kazusa's eyes widen in delight. “Found you.” He prints the information on his screen and holds a button on the radio in his lab. “Number Ninety-nine. Lean Hampelmann. Sending summary momentarily.” A single word comes back through the radio: “Copy.” Kazusa takes a sip of coffee and holds the button again. “...Any update on Emina?” “Negative. Last ping is still city hall.” Kazusa frowns to himself. Maybe she's underground or...No, finding her isn't his job. He walks to the printer and picks up the warm sheet of paper with his discovery on it. After delivering this, he'll have the rest of the day off. Maybe a chat with Kurasame will put his mind at ease. That, or some sleep.

* * *

An engineer turns a knob with shaky hands. He swallows and exhales in an attempt to remain calm as Cid watches closely. “Total stability hasn’t been reached yet, but I believe we’ll have the energy under control within the next twenty-four hours.” He stiffens when Cid rests a hand on his shoulder. “I look forward to it.” Cid gives his attention to the young man standing a ways behind him. “Lean, come with me. We have matters to discuss.” Lean tears his eyes away from the mass of cerise phantoma. “Yes, sir.” He follows behind Cid as he exits the laboratory, keeping two paces behind. They walk in silence to Cid’s on-site office in the research facility, just an elevator ride away. The office is barren, save for some old furniture and a few thick folders. Cid takes a seat behind a metal desk, and motions for Lean to close the door.

“I'm going to need every ounce of your genius. Yours and Qun'mi's, and even more. If we are to harness a power great enough to destroy the Crystals…” “We'll get it done,” Lean says with an earnest confidence. “You just focus on damage control when the inevitable public outrage happens.” Cid gives a slight smile. “Hmph. I'm counting on you.”


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Mother makes a quick visit to Caetuna and her guest. Emina returns from whence she came.

Mother appears out of thin air as she typically does. “All that magic and you won't heal the poor girl? That's cruel, Caetuna.” She eyes Emina's unconscious body. “Hmm, I do understand why you'd like to keep her around as long as possible, though.” She conjures her cigarette. “And I understand you took the liberty of uncovering her Truthseeker mark? Funny. I never took you for the kind to undress another without permission. It seems I'm still learning more about you after all this time.” “And after a very short time, I discovered exactly what kind of entity you are,” Caetuna says curtly. “...I was merely tidying her hair. Intuition told me to check her shoulder. That is all.”

“Uh-huh,” Mother says, bringing her cigarette to her lips. She inhales, gazing at the vague discomfort on Caetuna's face. The smoke seeps through her lips, drifting over to Caetuna like a limb that she has full control of. “Would you like a smoke, Dear?” “You know well that I despise that blasted thing,” Caetuna nearly hisses. Mother takes a seat on the foot of the bed. “And here I thought you enjoyed the taste of me.” Caetuna speaks quicker than she can find a wiser choice of words - “You taste of the tar that composes the core of your being.” - and is met with a smile just short of menacing. “Such acrid words. That's one of the reasons you're my favorite,” Mother says. She takes another drag from her cigarette, and disappears as suddenly as she'd come. Caetuna closes her eyes and slouches. She looks over to Emina. If only she too could achieve peaceful sleep...albeit drug-induced.

“Caetuna, huh?” Great. She heard everything. Not that it matters.

Emina slowly pushes herself up onto her knees, not quite stable but definitely doing much better than before. “It seems you're not a big fan of Mother. Why follow her around?” She asks more out of curiosity than out of duty. This mission is a shitshow anyway. “She owns me,” Caetuna says. “Me, the Crystals, this world...those children.” “Wait, kids are involved with her?” Emina asks. “What are you going on about?”

Caetuna shakes her head slowly. “It's far too much to explain. Or to believe. The end will come soon enough. I did wish to speak more, about other things. But, I should send you back now.” There's a wistfulness in her voice, and Emina is truthfully confused as all hell, but she feels sympathy for her supposed enemy. “Uh…” What are words? Emina bows her head. “Uhhhh.” “May we cross paths again before the seal is broken,” Caetuna says, and she taps Emina’s shoulder.

“What the-” Emina stands in the parking lot of Akademeia City Hall in her dress from the previous night. Her purse has her cloak and her wallet with all her IDs. Even her communication device is snug in her ear, tiny and hidden. “Hanaharu? Hanaharu, do you copy?” Emina kneels, still not quite steady. “I...copy. I'll file a report as soon as possible. Can HQ send transportation? I got...roofied.” There's a pause on the other end of the line. “...Yeah. Copy that. ETA five minutes.” “Thanks,” Emina says. She looks up at the sky. It's the middle of the day. In other words, way too long until she can go back home.

In five minutes’ time, a black car arrives. Emina slides into the passenger seat, fastens her seatbelt, and lets out a sigh. In the driver's seat is a longtime friend, Guren. He presses the gas pedal gently. “You gave us a little scare. What was that all about?” Emina leans her head against the window. “I don't think you'd believe me.” Guren shrugs. “Maybe you're right. But try me anyway.”

“Might as well,” Emina decides. “I had some champagne at the masquerade. There was something in it. Supposedly. I passed out in the middle of a dance with...you know that woman that's onstage with Mother a lot?” Guren makes a sharp turn. “Whoops. Uh...I think? The ginger?” Emina resists the urge to criticize Guren’s driving. At least he got his license. “...Yes. The ginger. We were dancing and I passed out, and then I woke up...somewhere. I don't even know. Mother showed up too, and they kind of argued. The more I think about it, the foggier everything gets. Like, I know I'm forgetting important details, but they just keep slipping away.”

Guren turns the car into the entrance of an underground garage. He spots a vacant parking space almost immediately and grins, turning the wheel as far left as it will go and easing into the spot. “Well, hey, nobody's perfect. You've probably got a little something still in your system, too. You should grab a bite and get checked out in the infirmary.” Guren cuts off the engine and steps out of the car. Emina exits her side, and the two head toward a stairway. They ascend one flight and open a door to a short glass tunnel. At the end of the tunnel is an automatic door, with large letters engraved above it reading, “Rubrum Investigative Agency Headquarters.”

Emina and Guren enter through the automatic door. “Want me to come with you?” Guren asks. Emina looks toward the north hallway, which houses the cafeteria. “I'll be fine. Thanks. See you around?” “You know it,” Guren says, turning toward the west hallway as Emina starts walking.

Coffee on an empty stomach is a bad idea. So, Emina makes sure to eat a two and a half course brunch before enjoying her caffeine. She takes the first sip of her cappuccino, and wishes deep down that she could go back to sleep on that soft, soft bed.


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Phantoma experiments continue, and a new assignment is issued to Kazusa and Kurasame.

“This amount of energy is insane,” Qun'mi remarks as she views a monitor displaying numerous measurements. A ray of energy pierces a magitek armor prototype, flinging a piece of metal against the fortified glass of the observation room. “If we figure out how to control it better, we can power the whole nation on this stuff. But what  _ is  _ it?”

“Leave that question for the Truthseekers,” Lean says. “We are to continue our research, and one day get rid of these Crystals.” He types some notes on the tablet in his hand. Qun'mi presses a button, and a sign reading “WAIT” glows inside the testing area. “Yeah. There's no telling the next time they'll command something crazy. I never liked being told what to do by a rock in the first place.”

Lean views a blueprint on his screen. “No one said you had to become a l'Cie. A-088 needs a quick fix.”

Qun'mi heads for the door. “No one said you had to be the one to go black market shopping.” She turns the door handle. “Anything for Cid, huh? A-088, ETA eight minutes. Resume test on my signal.”

* * *

Emina rests her head on Kazusa’s shoulder, half-conscious. “Should we take her home?” Kurasame proposes. Kazusa scratches his head. “Can't really go anywhere with this assignment pending.” “I'll go, then,” Kurasame decides. “It looks like coffee actually made things worse. Emina, are you still with us?” Emina looks up, and speaks with full coherence. “I should've gotten triple espresso.”

Kurasame offers his hand. “Come on. Let's get you home. Kazusa, call me if they actually give out that assignment before I get back.” “You've got it,” Kazusa says as Emina bypasses Kurasame's hand and grips his forearm instead. Kurasame starts walking slowly, and Emina follows, not bothered to even look where she's going.

Kazusa stretches his legs and leans back in his seat as his friends leave. They gave the mission of finding Lean to someone else, but questions still linger in his mind. What did he need phantoma for? The same thing as everyone else, likely: research. But for what? Attempts to harness phantomatic energy have failed time and time again. So what, they just keep trying? That's what scientists do, after all. Reevaluate hypotheses, tweak experiments, give it another go. Or has phantoma become a trophy item now? Regardless-

“Kazusa, Kurasame,” a voice from the unit director's office calls. Kazusa chuckles to himself and sends a quick text to Kurasame. He enters the office and closes the door. “Takatsugu. Good afternoon.” “Good afternoon,” Takatsugu replies. “I'll cut to the chase. There's been a double homicide in the Eibon area. Local officials are out questioning while we're trying to find a DNA match, but so far everything points to the victims being from Rubrum and Concordia, respectively. From eyewitness reports and the state of the corpses, it's quite obvious who the culprit is. Your assignment is to find as much evidence as possible to support the claim. Whenever Kurasame decides to join us, I'll assign him as your guard.”

Kazusa frowns. “You're saying it was the Red Demons?” Takatsugu nods. He pulls an envelope from one of his desk drawers and sets it on top of the desk. “Reports from the crime scene, witness accounts, and interviews as of eight o'clock this morning. Use that keen eye of yours.” Kazusa picks up the envelope. “Understood.”


	6. Chapter 6

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Kazusa and Kurasame investigate a crime scene. Meanwhile, news spreads within the R&D facility in Milites.

Kazusa examines the markings on a concrete wall. Graffiti, writings and pictures etched with rocks, scars and stains from unknown substances, and a shallow cut. It's horizontal, thin, and almost certainly intentional. “Kurasame, look at this. Is this from a katana?” Kurasame looks up from a crime report. “Huh...Well, I can't say what kind of blade made this, but it looks fresh.” “Hm.” Kazusa looks through the photos in his hands. One is an extremely blurry picture from a cellphone camera, but he can make out two red glowing eyes. At first glance, they look like traffic lights, but staring at the photo reveals eyes and a few specks of crimson where a street lamp’s light reflects off of…something. Kazusa has a strong guess, but the photo can't support it. “The Red Demons are said to have red capes, hence the name. Mantles of crimson, harbingers of death.”

“Matches witness accounts,” Kurasame says. “But we're looking for physical evidence, right? I don't think that picture is going to lead us anywhere. Is there anything here other than that slash in the wall?”

Kazusa scratches his chin. “I'm surprised the locals didn't catch it. I'm not seeing anything else, though.”

Kurasame reads from a witness account. “‘They just stood there, like raw dark energy in humanoid form. Their eyes were like glowing red robot eyes. Their capes were red like people say, and they were kind of floating almost. The aura was intense. I saw three of them. One just kind of slowly approached and then, screams. And silence. There was this red kind of light, and then more blood, everywhere. Then they disappeared without a trace. Like, they faded from this realm kind of disappeared. I wish I could've looked away.’”

Kazusa sighs. “Why have us deal with stuff that's clearly beyond our understanding? You'd think the l'Cie would try to do something. This has been going on for how long, almost a decade? What are the Crystals thinking?” Kurasame rests a hand on Kazusa's shoulder. “Hey. Take a breath. I'll buy you a drink after you submit your report, alright?” Hearing those words, Kazusa perks up. “As long as it's not a repeat of last time.”

* * *

Urushi bows to Cid. “Pardon my intrusion. We've gotten word that the next auction will be held on the last Friday of the month.” Cid nods his head. “I see...Thank you. Please carry on with your duties.” Urushi dismisses herself with a firm, “Yes, Sir.”

Outside Cid’s office waits Lean. “Do you think he's gonna send anyone to this auction?”   
“You know him better than I do,” Urushi responds. “But we did blow a lot of budget last time. I feel like it makes sense to wait. How's research coming along?”  
“Classified. Did you hear about the Eibon killing?”  
Urushi winces. “Yeah. Those Red Demons...I guess the scariest part is not knowing what they're after. They could show up anywhere.”

“No use dwelling on it,” Lean says. “Who knows? They could be connected with the Crystals. Two birds with one stone sounds nice. Alright, back to the lab.”  Urushi watches Lean go to the nearest elevator. Why did he want to talk all of a sudden? In any case, she supposes it's nice of him to check in once in a while.

Lean rides the elevator down to the second floor of the large research facility. He walks past several laboratories until he reaches lab 02-4B. Inside waits Qun'mi and their fellow colleague Ines, in the midst of conversation.

“It's just hard for me to say right now. Sorry.”  
“Lady Qun'mi, it's fine. Really.”  
“Quit the ‘Lady’ crap. It makes me feel old.”  
“You say that but you're pouting like a child.”  
“Oh, like how you pout when I won't help you with sudoku?”  
“Oh, Lean, hi.”

Lean waves, and takes a seat at the same table as the women. “Hope I'm not interrupting anything important. We have three prototypes to work on. Which one do you want to do first? Take your pick.” He taps his tablet several times, and the three screens in the lab flicker to life. Each displays a different blueprint: a pistol, a magitek armor, and a miniature bomb.

“I'd go for the MA,” Ines says. “But we have more than our fair share of all-too-eager pilots ready to go crazy during testing and hurt themselves.” “Sounds like Charon did it again,” Qun'mi mumbles. She carefully observes the bomb blueprint. “This one seems simplest. I think starting small and working our way up is best when we're dealing with phantoma.”

The screens switch to display more detailed blueprints for the bomb at different angles. Lean sets his tablet aside. “Let's get to work, then.”


	7. Chapter 7

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Mother tends to Caetuna. Kazusa briefs Emina on the state of affairs.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yikes.

Caetuna lies in bed, gazing blankly at her hand. Mother’s fingers are entwined with her own, keeping her hand in a soft yet inescapable grip. Steady, warm breaths against the back of her neck make the hairs there stand. Everything smells like smoke.

“If you have something to say, then say it,” Mother's voice commands. Caetuna feels the words in her spine. “Choose wisely.” Caetuna does not deliberate her word choice: “Stop breathing.”

The breaths on her neck halt. Mother's lips touch her shoulder. “You finally quit the ‘don't touch me’ card.” Caetuna inches toward the edge of the mattress. Mother pulls her back. “People like you get lonely and cold. You crave warmth and affection.”

“Stop talking.”  
“I'm the only one who can provide you with that.”  
“Please stop.”  
“Rest assured, I will.”  
Everything sounds like smoke.

A fog settles in Caetuna's mind as Mother takes her into an embrace. Her fear and her frantic thoughts slip away. She feels calm, and safe, and she absolutely loathes it. “It's okay. There’s no need to cry.” Everything looks like smoke.

* * *

Emina stares at the ceiling, still wrapped in her bath towel and waiting for her hair to dry. She listens to Kazusa through an earpiece. “The Red Demons? And another auction, so soon? You know, I wonder if they're connected at all. Something about this ‘Mother’ character seems...yeah. Yeah. Still fuzzy, unfortunately. I do want to go, though...Thanks. See you tomorrow.”

Drawing on most if not all of her willpower, Emina sits up in bed.Who is Mother? How does she gather phantoma? What  _ is  _ phantoma? And Caetuna, who is she? What was that place? Why and how did the Red Demons come to exist? Are they connected to all of this? It’s headache-inducing, and if she’s thinking this much, Kazusa’s brain must be in overdrive. If they can just get to the bottom of this big mess, then maybe everyone can take it easy for a little bit.

As if.


	8. Chapter 8

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Mother listens to the Crystals. Lean visits a prisoner. Kazusa, Emina, and Kurasame commence their next assignment.

Mother listens to the tales the Crystals have to tell, the tales of the different hearts and memories and destinies connected to them.

“Is that so? Then, the time is almost here.”

* * *

Lean stares inside the prison cell at Urushi. “I really wanted to believe you weren't a traitor, you know.” Urushi remains silent. Lean lowers his head. “We don’t have ill intentions. In the end, getting rid of the Crystals is better for everyone. This delays our plan by years. What if during that time, the Crystals decide to have l'Cie fight again for the hell of it?”

Urushi can't bring herself to look at him. “You know as well as I do that no matter what route you take, destroying any, let alone all of the Crystals, will bring war. Don’t pretend your actions are harmless.” Lean holds his tongue. He shakes his head and turns away from Urushi. “Some things are worth sacrificing for a better future. You included.” He steps toward the single elevator in the area. “But, thank you for keeping an eye out for me until now.”

Urushi wipes a tear from her eye as Lean boards the elevator. “Jeez.”

“He’s an important part of your story.”

Urushi looks to her right. A girl with long black hair wearing a cloak sits beside her. “...Please tell me you’re not an inmate.”

The girl smiles. “I’m not. I’m...an observer, I guess you could call it. I’m recording the stories of this spiral. I’d like to write down what’s on your heart.” Calm, completely confused, and not bothered to question the sudden appearance of this mysterious girl, Urushi complies. “What’s on my heart, huh? Well, Lean, obviously. I’ve known him since he was little. You get attached, you know? But, it looks like he knows what he wants to do. I guess all I can do now is hope he stays safe.”

The girl writes in a large book with a quill pen. “Is there more?”

Urushi smiles. “Get comfortable.”

* * *

“So, we got a game plan?” Kurasame asks. Kazusa fastens his tie and secures his mask. “A loose one. I tail the night’s highest bidder, Emina tries to talk to Mother’s assistant again, and you, my dear Kurasame, go backstage and see what you can find.” “Simple enough,” Kurasame says. “Emina, try not to go disappearing again.” The words sound playful, but they hold a specific seriousness. Emina gives Kurasame a light push to the chest. “I’ll try. Either way, don’t worry. Now let’s get this show on the road.”


	9. Chapter 9

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The next auction.

Kurasame peeks into crates and explores the numerous small rooms backstage. Nothing. Dusty boxes hold mixed costumes and props. Even the hardly functional trap doors reveal empty spaces. No heat signatures. No strange radio waves. _Nothing._

“Looking for something?”

Kurasame stands upright and turns around to come face to face, or, face to mask, with Mother herself. “You certainly won’t find it here. Of course, you’re welcome to keep snooping around if you’d rather not be in the audience. They’re a sweaty bunch.”

Kurasame hesitates a moment, then reaches for his badge. “I am Kurasame Susaya, working under orders from the Rubrum Investigative Agency. I am placing you under arrest for the possession and sale of unauthorized materials. Do not attempt to resist arrest. Such attempts may be met with force.”

Mother chuckles. “Kurasame. Sleep.”

* * *

“Unfortunately, this will be my final auction,” Mother announces. Members of the crowd turn to one another and begin to converse. “That’s why I’ve got a treat in store for you all tonight. If you will, Dear.” The curtains part for Caetuna, who carries a box containing what appears to be a bright silver phantoma. “Argent phantoma. You wouldn’t believe how rare it is. Among phantoma, I’d say roughly one in a billion. Shall we start at two million gil?”

The audience stares in silence. Mother lights her cigarette with a snap of her fingers. “Take your time.”

The tense hesitation of the audience breaks, like it always does when she announces a high starting bid.

“Two...million. Two million!”  
“Two million two hundred thousand.”  
“Two and a half million!”  
“Two point seven million!”  
“Two point eight!”  
“Two million, nine hundred three thousand, one hundred twelve gil!”  
“Three million.”

Mother smokes calmly as the price goes higher and higher, only yielding to the wealthiest of the attendees at a round, four and a half million gil. “Four and a half million. Going once. Twice.” No one challenges the bid. “Sold to number twenty-four.” Next is sepia phantoma, then cinnabar, cerulean, and mauve, all items she'd never before introduced. Bids skyrocket into the tens of millions of gil as Mother's silver tongue describes the rarity and potential of each phantoma. Finally, she has Caetuna reveal the night’s final item.

“It's a favorite of mine,” Mother says. “Not because it's extremely rare or potent. It certainly is both of those things, but the quality I admire most is its beauty. I could stare for hours at how it glimmers and dances. It's very dear to me. Thus, I will start the bid for this golden phantoma at twelve million gil.”

A bald, stout man at the very front of the audience holds up a sign with the number 16 printed on it. “Twelve million!” he shouts. He sounds short of breath, and even through his mask, anyone paying attention can see that his eyes are intensely focused on Mother. Mother looks only at the sign in his hand. Her attention shifts to the next bidder.

“Twelve point four!”  
“Thirteen million!”  
“Thirteen and a half million!”  
“Fifteen!”

The sudden leap in price quiets most of the audience.

“I'll do anything you want!” the man with the number 16 shouts. “Anything, Mother!” That certainly isn't a standard gil bid. Mother walks to the very edge of the stage and looks down at the sweaty man. “Anything, hm?” She kneels to get even closer. “Then run me my money.” She blows smoke into the man's face, and he appears to choke, but then he abruptly falls unconscious with no trouble breathing.

“So, fifteen million, was it?”

“Fifteen point three.”  
“Fifteen and a half.”  
“Eighteen million,” says an elderly man. He holds the number 81, and wears a gentle smile that sets him apart from the crowd.

“Eighteen million. Going once. Twice…”  
“Eighteen and a half-”  
“Twenty million.” The elderly man shuts down his opponent, his smile still very present.  
“Twenty million. Going once. Going twiiiice. And, the golden phantoma is sold to number 81. Thank you all for attending my final auction. Winning bidders, come backstage to collect your items.”

“Any word from Kurasame?” Emina asks. Kazusa glowers behind his mask. “I asked Kotetsu to come and investigate when he didn't check in. It seems Kurasame was put under a sleep spell. Other than that, unharmed. We're to carry on with our objectives.” Emina removes her cloak, revealing a modest cocktail dress. “Roger. Good luck.” She heads upstairs to the ballroom.

The sight of the jolly, tipsy, bourgeoisie is almost an eyesore. Emina keeps her distance from the crowd, looking while trying not to be seen. She can't see Caetuna, or feel her gaze. Maybe she's helping to distribute the phantoma. She is Mother's assistant, after all. Emina moves back toward the corridor that leads to the basement stairs. The hall has always been dimmer than others, but visibility is still high. Yet, Caetuna's emergence from the staircase startles her. Caetuna seems equally stunned.

“...You.”  
“It's you.”  
“Caetuna. Take me to that place. Wherever we were before. I want to talk with you. Please.”

Emina's request is adamant, perhaps even aggressive for a near stranger. She doesn't expect Caetuna to hear her out at all. But, reality often strays from expectations. Caetuna reaches for Emina's hand. “Very well.”


	10. Chapter 10

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Caetuna and Emina talk. Qun'mi and Lean take on the Red Demons.

Caetuna sits on the edge of her bed and removes her mask. Emina does the same. They stare at one another for a moment. Emina scratches her head. “There's...a lot to say. I feel like you'll decline to answer anything I ask.”  
“I am willing to disclose all that I know,” Caetuna assures her. “It won't...um. Emina? Could we take turns? There are things I'd like to know as well.”

That's fine with Emina. “Sure.” What would Caetuna be curious about, though? “Well, there's no time to waste. Mind if I go first?”  
“Go ahead.”

Caetuna seems eager in a way. Now, where to start…

“What is phantoma?” Emina asks. Caetuna brings a hand to her chest. “Phantoma is...something inside us. It is the life energy possessed by every living being. Like souls.” Emina swears under her breath. So this is the truth sought after for so long.

“Phantoma contains enormous amounts of energy, so Mother sought to harness this power. But, more researchers than just herself means quicker results.”  
“So she began selling phantoma to scientists. But why such high prices? How does she get hands on it in the first place? And why does she need to...Sorry. It's your turn.” Emina takes a breath to calm herself. “I'm all ears.”

Caetuna taps her fingertips together. “I don't see much of the world outside of the auctions, so I wondered...What do people find joy in today? What fills their hearts? What makes their lives worth living? So, now I ask these things to you. What makes you smile?” Emina takes a moment to reflect. It's an unexpectedly personal question, for sure. Why can't Caetuna go outside? And why does she look like she could cry at any moment? “I guess it's all the things I take for granted.” Emina falls back onto Caetuna’s extraordinarily soft bed. “The clear skies, the rain, the rainbows. Reading late at night, going out with friends, reminiscing...laughing at things that aren't even funny.” She smiles just thinking about it all. Caetuna smiles as well.

“It sounds lovely.”  
“You don't have friends, then?”  
“I...suppose I do not.”  
Emina reaches for Caetuna’s hand. “Then, I'll be your friend.”

Caetuna slaps Emina's hand away, forcefully. She lowers her head. “Sorry. I'm not sure what that was.” The look on her face says otherwise. It's something she's done many times before.

“Mother did something, didn't she? I won't ask you to talk about it. I'm practically a stranger, after all.”

Caetuna brings her knees to her chest. Her heels rest on the very edge of the mattress. “Practically a stranger, and my friend.” She hugs her knees closer to her chest and takes an audible breath.

“I was a Truthseeker once. I had both the desire to protect Rubrum and to ask the Crystal about the truths of phantoma. The Crystal denied my requests for knowledge. I was made to kill, again and again. After centuries, I'd become weary. I craved any escape, even death.”

Emina's gaze intensifies with each sentence. She listens to Caetuna's story, bracing her sympathetic side.

“Mother appeared to me one day, and offered to release me from my fate as a l'Cie if I agreed to be her faithful servant. So, she took the Crystal’s place as my master. But, our base of operations - our home, per se...this place exists outside of the world we hail from. In large part, I do not see Orience or its people unless Mother wills it. Books innumerable are accessible to me, but human interaction is not, with the exception of the children…” Caetuna lets out a shaky breath. “I need warmth. Human touch. Mother provides that. She isn't even human. I hate it, with all that I am. But, I need it.”

It seems that's all she has to say for now, but… “That's only the half of it, isn't it?” Emina asks. “I'll put my questions about these ‘children’ on the backburner. Come on.” She pats the empty space beside her. “It seems to me like you need a good old-fashioned nap. And/or a good cry. I don't judge. I've had my fair share.”

Caetuna tries to relax. She leans back and falls into her mattress. Many mortals live for the present. She ought to try right now, since this moment could be stripped away at any moment. “Just for a few minutes.”

* * *

Takatsugu places his pistol against the padlock of Urushi’s cell door. He fires, and an alarm joins the cacophony of other alarms sounding throughout the building. He opens the door, and Urushi steps out. “Thank goodness my Prince Charming arrived,” she teases, stretching her arms. She kicks the air a few times. “It gets cramped after a while.” Takatsugu rolls his eyes. “Cid actually called me here for a diplomatic discussion of your execution. But, obviously something came up. Let's get out of here.” The pair heads for the stairs.

Several flights above, Cid boards a magitek armor as Qun'mi and Lean battle the Red Demons. Glowing red eyes lock onto Lean in his prototype MA. He fires at his adversaries. Two of the six fall. The others attack with different weapons: a sword, a pistol, some kind of magic cards, and a lance. The lance-wielding shadow leaps into the air, clearly aiming for Lean’s vessel. He avoids a critical hit, but the attack’s impact leaves the wires in the MA’s arm exposed. “Damn. Sir, are you airborne yet?”

“Almost there,” Cid says over the radio, staring at the main monitor inside his MA. “We’ll buy you enough time,” Qun’mi says assuredly. “I swear it.” She aims a Gatling gun-esque weapon prototype at the Red Demons and uses her l’Cie power to enhance the attack. Energy bullets pelt the nightmarish foes. The card-wielder conjures a protective wall of magic and fires its deck in retaliation. The cards that hit cut straight through Qun’mi’s protective gear as well as her skin. The sword wielder charges forward. Qun’mi takes a grenade out of one of her many hidden pockets. “No you don’t-”

“Liftoff achieved. Lean, retreat. Qun’mi, cover. I’ll see you two in the bunker.” Cid’s voice comes in clear through the ringing in Qun’mi’s ears from the explosion. The shadow that had attacked her lies on the ground, still somehow alive. Qun’mi supposes she shouldn’t be surprised. If she’s practically immortal, there’s no reason these things can’t be. She readies the gun again, then pauses. The enemies all suddenly turn away, and start to walk off.

“The hell?” Lean fires. Three of the Red Demons fall, lifeless. Then, all those who were struck down rise with a mangled scream. They limp behind their companions, heading toward their objective which clearly is no longer this fight. “...Come on,” Qun’mi says, a bit stunned. “We should catch up with Cid.” She leaps onto the shoulder of Lean’s MA, and waits for takeoff.


	11. Chapter 11

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> An unspecified amount of time after the auction, the investigation team decides their next move. Emina meets Mother.

“Cid’s dead.”

Urushi glances over a single sheet of paper. “MA fell out of the sky with an arrow in its engine. A good chunk of blueprints and other documents were stolen from the R&D location at around the same time as the assassination. Prior to these incidents, I sent copies of whatever I could to good hands. _Hopefully.”_ She glances at Takatsugu. “There was a heavy focus on phantoma-powered weapons. Both Cid’s death and the robbery were allegedly committed by the Red Demons. There’s a good chance they’re working under Mother since they’re stealing research on phantoma. The chances she’s dangerous are pretty much a hundred percent. But we’ve still got no lead on where she is...and Emina. Nothing?”

Kurasame and Kazusa sit with their arms folded. “She said not to worry,” Kazusa says as calmly as he can. The scowl on his face darkens. “What’s our current objective?” “A trip to the Crystarium,” Takatsugu declares, inciting surprised looks from the others in the room. “We don’t have any real leads right now, but I think we all know something supernatural is going on. Let’s see if the ancient tomes have anything to say about these Red Demons.” With no counterarguments to be made, the team stands and prepares to head toward their destination.

* * *

One of the Red Demons inspects Emina with big red eyes. Its shape and movements are like that of a young girl. It presents a daffodil to Emina and watches. “Is...this for me?” Emina hesitantly reaches out and takes the flower. “Thank you, um...”

“Her name is Cinque,” Caetuna says. Emina nods slowly. “Thank you, Cinque.” The shadow jumps up and down, and skips away. “So they’re Mother’s children. They seem like they...wouldn’t go around killing people.”

“They don’t know better,” Caetuna says. She sighs. “If they did, they would continue anyway. Those children live, die, and kill for her. They love her, and she uses them this way.”

Emina moves to place a hand on Caetuna’s shoulder, but stops herself. “We’ll find a way to fix this. Or at least we can try.”  
“Don’t force optimism,” Caetuna says. “Come. Mother is summoning me. I’d prefer to have you with me.”

Emina complies in a heartbeat. “Sure. I actually thought she would’ve kicked me out by now. Maybe it’s coming soon.” Caetuna reaches for Emina’s hand. “Maybe.” The moment they touch, their surroundings transform into a sort of office. Mother sits at a desk in front of them, smoking up a storm.

“I see you’ve brought your friend,” Mother says with a smile. The smoke seeps out of her mouth, covering her entire face for a few seconds, save for her piercing golden eyes. “It’s a little funny, but extremely childish, don’t you think? How many centuries and you still cling to your girlish dream?” Mother vanishes into thin air, and reappears behind the other two women. “Emina, you will die. That is a fact. You are mortal. Caetuna, you are no longer human, and you never will be again. The sooner you stop trying to pretend, the less everything will hurt.”

Emina clenches her teeth and turns around to face Mother. Her voice is much calmer than the glare on her face suggests. “You’re wrong. You obviously don’t know the first thing about being human. Because, if you did, then…”

Mother conjures a pistol and places it against Emina’s forehead. “Yes, yes, the whole friendship speech. But, what I said stands. You will die, just as everyone Caetuna has ever known. Every last one. Dead. All except for me. It is because I cannot die that I can be of comfort to her. Mortals, and even my children, bring her grief. Are you watching, Dear? This is so you learn.”

Emina stands frozen, half from fear and half from disbelief. Caetuna watches helplessly. A scream gets caught in her throat, as if the smoke in the room is keeping it down. Smoke. That’s what this sensation is: a fuzziness in her mind that makes her question whether any of this is real, a deep numbness inside, and a tingle on the surface her skin. Mother pulls the trigger.

Everything feels like smoke.


	12. Chapter 12

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The final confrontation...this time, anyway.

“A whole lot of nothing, huh?” Takatsugu asks, checking on Kazusa’s progress. He holds a button on the earpiece attached to his ear. “Naghi, Kotetsu, anything? ...Damn.” He turns to go check on Urushi, who sits at a table covered with tens of books. A light outside a window catches Kurasame’s eye. “Hey, uh…”

The others look to Kurasame expectantly. Kurasame points to the window nearest him. “I think we may have a lead.” The team congregates around the window. In the distance, a beam of light connects the ground and the heavens. “Is that what Cid was going for?” Kazusa asks. Takatsugu hastily marches toward the door. “Whatever it is, it can’t be good. Come on.”

* * *

“What the hell?” Qun’mi hisses. Ten of the Red Demons stand ready to attack. One stands beside Mother, who operates a machine eerily similar to a prototype drafted at the research facility. One more lies at her feet, motionless. Caetuna sits beside it, knees to her chest, hands painted brown with dried blood.

“Moderately powerful phantoma, when focused properly, can cut through buildings with ease,” Mother says. She adjusts a knob and makes a motion with her hand. A red, string-like aura forms between her hand and the Red Demon standing next to her. She makes a fist, and the creature falls to the ground with a spatter of blood. “Extraordinarily powerful, refined, focused phantoma may be able to tear through the fabric of reality itself.” She feeds the phantoma to the machine. The beam it produces shines brighter.

“I dunno what the hell you’re talking about,” Qun’mi mutters. She grasps the hilt of the katana strapped to her waist. “All I know is that Cid’s dead and you’re the bastards behind it!”

“Qun'mi.” Lean hovers in his MA behind her. “I know. I know how angry you are. I am too. That's why I came. But if we're going to fight, we can't just jump into it. Okay?” His words seem to get through. Qun'mi’s grip on her weapon tightens, but she doesn't unsheath it. “You got a plan, prodigy?”

A silver car speedily approaches from the direction of the City of Akademeia. The tires screech as the driver hits the brakes, and the vehicle comes to a stop. Takatsugu, Kazusa, Kurasame, and Urushi step outside, weapons drawn. Mother doesn't spare them a glance. “Oh, the fledgling detectives. What fruitless effort are you up to this time?”

Kazusa's eyes fall on Caetuna. Even without the mask, he recognizes her immediately. He steps toward her. The Red Demons make no move to stop him. He looks at Caetuna's hands and then at the two lifeless bodies on the ground. A dark substance rises from them, as if they're dissipating. “Where is Emina?”

Caetuna flinches.

Mother waves her hand, and rips the phantoma from another Red Demon. “Go on, Dear. Stand up and tell the class all about your friend.”

Kurasame clenches his teeth. “What the hell was that? She just killed that thing like it was nothing...What _is_ she?” He forces himself to walk closer in order to support Kazusa should a battle take place. The question remains, though, if he even stands a chance. The Red Demons are called such for a reason, after all. But they seem passive for now.

Caetuna stands, revealing a giant bloodstain on her dress. “I...was foolish. It was my selfish wish for companionship that...All of a sudden, reality…”

“Use your words, go on,” Arecia says, drawing another string of aura to a Red Demon. She rips the phantoma out. Blood paints the bottom of her machine. The beam’s power intensifies. The sky turns red.

Caetuna speaks with a dry voice. “It's my fault.” Kazusa's and Kurasame's eyes widen, anticipating her next words. “...I killed her.”

Kazusa's hand reaches out as his mind replays the words. One of the Red Demons dashes between him and Caetuna. It takes a defensive stance. Mother strikes it down with a flick of her wrist. Blood splashes onto Kazusa's torso and chin, as well as Kurasame’s arm and leg. Caetuna stares at her hands. “This is her blood. I couldn't...I'm sorry.” Kurasame looks in Mother's direction and summons his sword of ice. Kazusa puts a hand on his shoulder. “We must act as professionals, Kurasame. To engage without clearance is...oh, damn it all.”

“About time.” Qun'mi smirks as a magitek armor flies overhead. Its arms host small but powerful energy canons, optimized for rapid fire. The targeting systems lock onto the remaining seven Red Demons and mother's device. It fires a hail of energy bullets. “Eat this!” Qun'mi shouts. Just before they make impact, the bullets freeze midair. “That’s impossible,” Lean thinks aloud. The bullets reverse their course, firing back toward their origin. The MA in the air explodes, and immediately drops straight to the ground. Qun’mi stares in shock. “Wh...Ines. Do you copy? That doesn’t…” Her face goes pale. “Why? I don’t get it. Just what the hell is any of this supposed to accomplish, huh?!”

Mother rips the phantoma from two more of the Red Demons, and summons her cigarette. “Well, since you asked…” She takes a drag, and exhales. “I’m going to tear open a portal to the Unseen Realm. Why? It’s my job.” Unsatisfied with the answer, Qun’mi attacks the remaining Red Demons with her katana. Her eyes glow with her Crystal’s power, and she cuts them down as they shoot and swing their weapons at her. Wounds appear on her arms, legs, and chest, but she continues to stand. The injuries begin to heal just as quickly as the blood starts to pour out. She glares at the five bodies, and then at Mother. “You’re next, hag!”

Mother blows smoke out of her nose and curls two of her fingers, calling the phantoma from the Red Demons toward her. She uses them to double the power of the beam shooting from her device. “Am I, now?” Qun’mi runs toward Mother in a dizzy rage, only to fall to the ground. She tries to move her limbs with no success. She finds that she can’t speak, or even blink. Lean looks on. “Qun’mi?” He turns his MA toward Takatsugu and Urushi, both still standing outside the car with grim expressions. “I don’t suppose you have any ideas, do you?”

Takatsugu shakes his head. “She’s some kind of god. There’s nothing we…” His eyes widen, as if he’s been struck by an epiphany. “There’s nothing we can do.” He lowers his head. “Urushi.” He raises his voice so that the others can hear him. “Kurasame, Kazusa. Thank you.”

The red sky fades to a pitch black. The temperature plummets, and the grass and trees freeze along with the car and Lean’s MA. The humans are the last to freeze over. A gust of wind wipes away the bodies of Mother’s children. Mother looks up at the sky. “My, would you look at that.” Caetuna looks up. Galaxies innumerable glimmer above the darkness. “...It’s beautiful.”

Mother sighs. “It’s a failed experiment, that’s what it is. How are you feeling?”  
“Terrible.”  
“Not ‘empty?’”

Mother walks to Caetuna. With each step she takes on the frozen grass, Orience fades more into darkness. She takes Caetuna’s hand, now clean from the blood. Only the two of them exist under the dreamlike sky. Caetuna stares in silence.

Mother smiles. “What? Oh, fine, I’ll let you play with her more next spiral. If you remember.”  
“My soul will.” Caetuna’s eyes hold a rare confidence.

“I see…” Mother brings a hand to Caetuna’s cheek. “Is that all?” The distant lights in the sky begin to shine brighter and brighter. The world will return to its spiral. “One thing,” Caetuna says, leaning forward. “I hate you.”

Everything tastes like smoke.

* * *

“What _was_ that?” Lean asks. Arecia shrugs.  
“Thought I’d switch it up a little bit.”  
“A _little_ bit?”

“It was a mess for sure,” Tohno says, reviewing her records of the spiral. “I definitely heard interesting stories this time, though.”  
Lean sighs. “It’s almost time.”  
Arecia waves her cigarette. “It most certainly is. Well, I’ll see you two around.”  
Tohno bows. “See you, Mother.”


End file.
